


Appreciate

by rayenbow



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:58:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayenbow/pseuds/rayenbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus does appreciate those boots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appreciate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aykayem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aykayem/gifts).



It’s a pleasantly quiet evening for Magnus. There are no wayward Shadowhunters holed up at his place, his cat is being surprisingly tame for once, curled up in front of the crackling fireplace. It’s a nice break from all the chaotic loudness that, as of late, has been a constant in his life.  
  
Keys jingle in the lock briefly, then the door swings open. So much for his night alone with a book. Magnus listens, trying to decide who’s letting themself into his apartment without turning around. The door clicks shut again, and the keys are tossed noisily onto the hallway table. It isn’t until he hears the heels tapping against the floor that he determines it’s Isabelle coming for a visit, not her brother.  
  
“Hey, you,” she says brightly as she rounds the corner into the living room. There’s a thump as she drops her bag on the floor, followed by the clank her weapons belt makes. She moves around the couch and plants herself directly in front of him. “Look what I bought for myself today.”  
  
He doesn’t look up right away, not even when she gets impatient and rests her foot on the couch cushion between his legs. He takes his sweet time finishing the paragraph he’s reading before he finally lowers it to look at her. Without saying anything, she brushes the toe of her boot against his inner thigh, and his attention is effectively drawn toward it.  
  
“Aren’t they nice?”  
  
They _are_ nice; a thin heel with at least five inches on it, all in black leather that laces halfway up. There are buckles up the sides accompanied by gears. All together, they have a steampunk feel to them, and he’s momentarily reminded of clockwork.  
  
He raises his book again, returning to the story that he’s read at least a dozen or so times. Unfortunately, it’s far too easy to run out of decent literature when one lives forever. “They’re not bad,” he says offhandedly, if only to get under her skin. It works, too. She huffs audibly and edges her foot forward. Even though she’s getting dangerously close to his crotch, he concentrates on the French on the page in front of him.  
  
“I got something else, too,” she says.  
  
It takes a few seconds for him to realize she’s flipped the hem of her ankle-length skirt back, but once he does, he drags his gaze from his book to her leg. All he can see is the crossing of her fishnets, which travel far up her leg and disappear beneath her skirt. After a moment, he reaches forward with one hand and pushes it up further. It gets almost all the way up her thigh before the buckles at the top of the nets are revealed. A little bit further, and he sees the straps and black lace of the garter.  
  
“Now this,” he says in a low voice, “I can appreciate.”  
  
“You appreciate the boots, too.” She plucks the book out of his hand, setting it aside carelessly. He can’t find it in him to care about losing his spot or the book being damaged, because then she’s straddling his lap and he’s pushing her skirt up to her hips. Her hands tangle into his hair, he leans up to press hot kisses against her lips, across her jaw, and down her neck. He slides his hands up her back, then back down, catching the edge of her silk panties and the garter and pulling them down. “Yeah,” he murmurs against her Marked collarbone, “I appreciate the boots.”


End file.
